few memories of our Nepalese experience ...
The leaves absorb the snow my steps as a cushion. Moisture from the river we follow ice my fingers. I consider myself to walk fall in Ste-Adele, except between the trees to my left, the eternal snows of the Himalayas stand at over 8000 meters.
Laurentides = no. Nepal = yes.
Getting together for a project in Nepal in India? Everything is a question of visas. Our pesky but essential Indian visa expires before our return to Quebec. We must renew and thereby confront the bureaucracy in Delhi, that is to say "camp" two days in a crowded waiting room. Another option: leave India and get a new visa abroad. An alternative slightly more exciting!
After two months in India, we offer seven-day trek in the heart of the mountains of Nepal, the tiny country which is home Yet eight of the ten highest peaks in the world. Less populous than Canada, it is bordered by well impressive neighboring south India (1 billion) and north China (1.35 billion).
hard not to be swayed by such powers ... From India, Nepal and the Hindu religion borrows money (the Indian rupee is accepted everywhere as well as the national currency Nepal).
From China, Nepal draws a small taste of communism. Indeed, the Maoists, the political party whose idol is the great helmsman Mao Zedong's people, are busy for many years renverser le gouvernement népalais. À coup de bombes, d’attentats, de kidnappings, ils se font entendre. Mais, assurent-ils, jamais ils ne s’en prendront aux touristes. Suffit de ne pas se trouver dans le mauvais autobus...
Mais rien de cela ne nous touche ici au cœur de la neige, alors que nous suivons notre sentier à travers les Himalayas. Notre seule préoccupation est de respirer. Car bien petits au creux de notre vallée, nous approchons tout de même les 3700 mètres d’altitude. L’oxygène se fait rare.
Notre balade de vallée en vallée et de village en village emprunte les sentiers des Sherpas, une des ethnies locales devenue célèbre lorsqu’un des leurs a transporté le matériel de la première expédition réussie au sommet du mont Everest.
Voilà qu’une femme sherpa aux vêtements colorés, les joues brûlées par le soleil, avance vers nous sur le sentier. Un immense panier rempli de bois est suspendu à son dos. Je me sens soudainement mal à l’aise d’être ici, avec comme unique but mon plaisir, alors que cette femme doit monter et descendre, parcourir durant des heures ces pentes abruptes pour approvisionner son village. À chaque jour recommencer, remonter, recharger le panier, repartir de nouveau. En plus, elle me double en vitesse et en âge. Gênant.
Mais arrivée my height, she gave me a toothless smile, then joins his hands in a traditional hello: Namaste ** **. I shall return his smile and looks away. She lost in the incredible panorama that encompasses it. Glaciers, snow-capped peaks, raging rivers ... I realized at once that it is rather to be sorry for me, I who pass here once in my life. Basically, it does not have daily access to the paradise that is the harder to bear ...
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